


House of Wolves

by LilithKawanami



Series: Villain!Klaus [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: BAMF Klaus, Gen, Ghost Mentor, Growing Up, In Control of his Powers Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Lessons learned, No Beta, Powerful Klaus Hargreeves, Sober Klaus Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 15:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18346148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilithKawanami/pseuds/LilithKawanami
Summary: Snapshots of Klaus through the years growing up in the Hargreeves household. Only this time, he isn't alone. Frank is the only person who has always stood by Klaus' side, and he is the only one who has been there through everything. He is encouraging, wonderful, and the best mentor a boy could ask for. He has taught Klaus so many things about how the world works, and Klaus most certainly wouldn't be the same person without his influence.





	House of Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the first of the stories I have planned to continue this universe! A little backstory for you as to how Klaus reached the point he was at in The Sharpest Lives.  
> This also isn't beta read and was written while under the influence of some pretty severe pain (chronic pain is a bitch), so if you see any mistakes feel free to point them out! I would definitely appreciate it! I don't have any official proofreaders, and staring at my own writing over and over is a sure way to miss things.

* * *

 

 ****At 12pm on October 1st, 1989, a deathly still child was born to a woman who had not been pregnant earlier that day. The mother died shortly after, and to all spectators, it appeared the child died with her. Until they saw him breathing, that is. The child was rushed to the nearest hospital, the medical mystery baffling many of the doctors. How could a woman reach full gestation in less than an hour? How could a newborn be so still, so quiet, so pale, and yet perfectly healthy?

Mere hours after the first observations were made, the hospital received a hefty donation, and the baby disappeared from the ward.

Relatives mourned for the loss of both the mother and child, a single urn said to contain both of their ashes.

 

* * *

Number Four was a very silent two year old. At least, he was during the day. During the night, his screams echoed the empty halls of the Umbrella Academy. In the light of day he preferred to observe, to passively move through training exercises, watching his siblings. He often knew when an argument or fight would break out before anyone else, and would either hide or attempt to defuse it.

Father discovered Number One’s power was super strength when he broke Number Four’s arm for getting in-between him and Number Two during one of their spats. Number One was rewarded, Number Four remained in a cast for the next three weeks and learned better than to stand close to Number One.

 

* * *

Number Four thought that his fourth year should be a lucky year - it had his name in it after all. Things did not work out that way. At four years old, all the Hargreeves children had come into their powers. Number Four was often scolded and punished for being one of only two children in the family scared of what they could do - but unlike Number Six who was only scared during the actual summoning of his extra appendages, Number Four was _always_ scared. His power didn’t have an off switch. He didn’t understand why the others didn’t get that. Instead, they laughed at him (like Numbers One and Three), or used their powers to taunt him (like Numbers Seven and Five), or did their best to distance themselves from him (like Numbers Two and Six). When Number Four tried to explain why the ghosts were so scary, what they looked like and how they sounded, Three heard a rumor he stopped talking.

Number Four's nightmares also got a lot worse, the spirits seeming to grow in strength with his age. Dad decided that his nightmares were disturbing the rest of the children, and so moved him into the small room next to Number Seven's which was soundproofed (Number Seven's room was also soundproofed, but that's because she kept manipulating her powers in ways Dad didn't like).

In the new room, his siblings weren't woken by his screams of terror, which meant they didn't yell back at him or wake him up. The nightmares lasted longer, and there was no one to save him from them.

Until there was.

Four years was enough time to become more comfortable with all forms of gore - Number Four had seen it all. It didn't stop adding to the level of fright he experienced, but it was an easy way to distinguish between the living and the dead. Sometimes those who died of invisible causes could be even more scary than the gruesome ones.

The man standing over his bed was decidedly dead. He was missing most of the lower half of his jaw, and part of the back of his head. Despite that, his words seemed to come out perfectly.

“Poor, little Number Four,” was the first thing he heard the spirit say. That in itself was shockingly different and made him pay attention. Spirits weren't eloquent. They just knew how to scream and claw and beg and rage. “It certainly seems like they don't care about you.”

“Who?” Number Four asked, licking his lips cautiously. He tried not to talk back to spirits when his father wasn't forcing him, because it only encouraged them to harass him.

“Those 'family’ members of yours. They isolate you, ridicule you, talk about how weak you are behind your back…” the ghost responded, still sounding reasonable and sane. But not sane - he was wrong! His siblings might focus more on themselves, but they were a family! He said as much to the ghost haunting him.

“Family? Kid, you don't even have a real name. And if the dead nanny brigade is anything to go by, your siblings only care about themselves. You shouldn't waste so much energy caring about them.”

Number Four had definitely noticed how many nannies they went through. They dogged Number Seven's steps, clawing at her and screaming for revenge. They had only tried to get her to eat! They didn't deserve to be killed! But Miss Grace had been their nanny for almost a month now, and nothing bad had happened to her.

“We are just trying to survive, in our own ways. Father loves us, but he is...difficult.”

A snort was what he received in response. “There’s no such thing as love, Number Four. It’s a manipulation tactic designed to make people supplicant and fall in line. There are only strong and weak people in this world. Which are you going to be?”

Number Four didn’t understand all of the words the spirit had said, but he also didn't like the sound of being weak, even though that’s all his siblings and Father seemed to think of him. Too weak to control his powers, too weak to control himself, too weak to match up to his siblings…

“How do I become a strong person?”

The ghost smiled, a ghastly thing with so much of his face missing, but it was the first time Number Four had had a smile directed at him like that. It seemed… approving.

“We’ll be great friends, Number Four. I have so much to teach you.”

 

* * *

At seven years old, Number Four made the mistake of telling Number Three that a color wasn’t flattering on her. When she ran off crying, Number Four already knew he was going to pay for it later. He didn’t need Frank to tell him that she had cried to Number One about it, although his friend did still make sure he was informed. Number One glared at him for the rest of the day, and Number Three looked quietly victorious, although he did take note of the fact she had changed her nail polish to a different color. Luckily, it was late in the evening, and Klaus had hope it would all blow over by the next day.

His sleep was as fitful as ever, so when Klaus woke up the following morning, he definitely was not looking forwards to physical training. He dragged his heels through breakfast before joining the others in the sparring room. Usually, Number One sparred with Number Two, but today Number One claimed Four as a partner before he could move over to Number Six like he usually did.

Father called start, and Number Seven blew the whistle like she usually did. Number Four did not have much warning before a fist came flying at his head. He ducked instinctively, nearly losing his balance even as he moved out of the range of his brother's much longer and much more dangerous arms. Number One just pressed the attack, moving close enough to trip him and send him flying to the floor. Number Four caught himself on his hands, his wrists twinging painfully even as Number One tried to press the advantage. He rolled out of the way, pulling himself to his feet behind Number One and tried to throw a return punch, but One caught his arm and squeezed tight enough that Number Four swore he heard his bones creak. There was nowhere to go when One threw his next punch, and it caught him painfully in the gut, hard enough that he coughed and was gasping for air. Number Four tried to kick at Number One, to claw at him with his free arm, to get away, but One was using his powers, and it was useless. One tossed him onto the mats, and Four rolled several meters, collecting scrapes along his arms. He lay there for a moment, groaning in pain.

“Number Four! What do you think you’re doing? Get back up!” Father demanded.

Four made the mistake of initially trying to use the arm Number One had grabbed to lever himself up, and collapsed again, the pain making him shake. By this point, Number One had reached his crumpled form, but instead of helping him up, he threw another punch, and Number Four knew he would have a black eye even as he thudded back down onto the ground.

Number Four did his best to follow his father’s command, but his body didn’t want to respond anymore. Between the lack of sleep the night before and the pain from Number One’s attacks, he didn’t want to move for a month.

“I give. I surrender, whatever,” Number Four choked out.

“There is no surrender! Get up, Number Four!” Father demanded, coming closer. He didn’t even seem to notice when the others stopped their sparring to watch the commotion.

“I can’t, I’m sorry, please stop,” Number Four cried out, trying to back away from Number One.

“Weakness will not be tolerated, Number Four!” Father yelled, and both One and Two nodded along, even as Number Four continued quivering from the pain, blood sluggishly dripping from his scrapes and bruises already appearing on his skin. “Clearly you need more training, if you can only put on this meager display. You will be punished, of course. The rest of you, back to training! Four, come with me.”

Number Four caught Three turn away with the corners of her mouth turned up, facing back to Six who resumed his stance with her. Two and Five were already fighting again. Four tried to pick himself up, but his body didn’t want to support itself. Father finally grabbed his less-injured arm, and mostly dragged him out of the room, his legs stuttering beneath him. He was thrown in the car and finally had a few moments of rest, before Pogo entered the driver’s seat. He didn’t know where they were going until they arrived, and he immediately wished he had put up more of a fight.

The number of ghosts increased the moment they neared the cemetery, and by the time he was yanked from the car, he was swarmed by them, a chill driving itself into his bones. His father dragged him to one of the stone buildings within, and tossed him to the ground inside. Before he even knew what had happened, the gate was locked behind him and he was trapped. He screamed and begged and called after his father’s retreating form, but he heard the car engine only minutes later, and he was alone.

“You see?” Frank spoke.

No, he wasn’t alone.

“They don’t care about you. Your siblings only care about themselves, and your father doesn’t care for any of you. You would be better off doing the same. Look out for yourself. You can’t trust them. Any of them would use you to get ahead, it’s only fair if you do the same to them. Use them before they can use you. It’s the only way to get ahead in life. Love is for babies. It isn’t real. It’s only another tool of manipulation, and you would be better off remembering that.”

Number Four nodded along with Frank’s words, tears dripping down his cheeks even as he tried to pull himself further into a corner and away from the other spirits in the mausoleum.

This was all Number Three’s fault. He had just been trying to help her as the only other fashionable person in the house. He had thought she would _want_ to know that she didn’t look good. He would be sure to never warn her again if something was wrong. And Number One had proven in the past that the only one of them he cared about was Number Three, and thinking of what Frank had taught him, he wasn’t so sure that Number Three hadn’t rumored him into that. But Number One would never have hurt him like that if he cared about him even a little. The rest of his siblings had just stared on - Number Six hadn’t even put up a token protest at sparring with someone else today, nor had Two. And Two - Number Two just nodded along with every word their father spoke. He was always trying to distinguish himself from Number One, but both of them were just good little kiss-butts. He didn’t want or need _any_ of them!

In his newfound anger, he barely noticed as all of the loose items in the mausoleum began swirling in the air, he just felt the anger overwhelm him, flow through his body, provide a strength he had never felt before. The cement foundation cracked, adding more to the whirlwind forming around him. He definitely noticed that, and so did Frank. They both grinned, even as the screaming picked up around them. Number Four grabbed that lingering anger saturating his body, and suddenly the masses were gone leaving him and Frank alone. This was certainly a development he wasn’t going to share with his good-for-nothing “family.” He would practice and become strong all on his own, and one day, he would show them what he could do. He didn’t care what Father’s plans were for him and the others. He wanted them to save the world? Well Four might just watch it burn. He certainly wouldn’t follow the path his father was trying to lay out for him. Maybe Frank would have some ideas.

 

* * *

Since accepting Frank’s truths in the mausoleum, Number Four started to see many of his interactions with his family differently.

Numbers One and Three only had eyes for each other as always, but he also noticed how often Three’s derisive gaze turned against him, and how frequently Number One would leap to her bidding. Number One also followed their father’s words to the letter, and was quick to take action against Four if Father might even slightly condone it.

Number Two spent almost all of his time trying to one-up Number One, but even when he wasn’t he still found time to be mean to Number Four. Without Frank, he wouldn’t have known Two’s mean prank with the battery was designed to hurt him. Frank already knew all about how batteries worked, and he knew it wouldn’t make him age and gain power more quickly. All licking it would do is give him a nasty shock.

Number Five thought he was better and smarter than all of his siblings. He was always filled with nasty comments about how stupid all of them were, and he was obsessed with advancing his powers. The moment he learned Father was regularly giving him ‘private lessons’ (better known as locking him in the mausoleum for hours at a time), he grew jealous and obsessive, taking more time to pick at him. The only benefit of the stupid private lessons in the first place was that he gained an unobserved place to practice with Frank, even if he hadn’t yet managed to replicate what he had done that first night yet.

Number Six was more quiet than the others and didn’t directly interact with him as much so Number Four had less to complain about with him, but he still very clearly distanced himself once Father made everyone aware of how little progress Four was making when compared to his siblings. Six had always been obsessed with gaining Father’s approval, although unlike One and Two, he had no desire to do it by leading.

Number Seven was ordinary and clearly hated and was jealous of the rest of them for having powers when she didn’t. She cried easily and claimed to hate when anything died, but Number Four could see several ghosts following her around, even if he couldn’t hear them or figure out why. He kept his distance, knowing she reported everything she saw to Father like a good little spy. If he ever spoke to Frank in front of her, he knew he would be forced in front of Father in no time.

Pogo was, in many ways, worse than Father, because he claimed to have a conscience and hate when Father punished any of them, but he actively participated in all of Father’s experiments and was willing to do anything that was asked of him. It seemed that his care for the children only extended as far as ‘Master Hargreeves’ permitted. He needed to hurry up and stop lying to himself. His gentleness would do more harm than good in the long run.

And Grace - sorry, _Mom_ \- was literally just a robot programmed by their father. She didn’t have a will or a mind of her own, and it was ridiculous that everyone else acted like she wasn’t just an extension of their father.

No one in the house was on his side except for Frank, and he was glad that he had finally come to terms with that.

 

* * *

As Number Four continued refusing to cooperate with Father’s experiments, the mausoleum became a more and more frequent appearance in his life. There was less free time to spend with his siblings outside of group training, but he didn’t miss the interactions as much as he thought he might. Frank was all the company he needed. Someone who didn’t fill conversations with thinly veiled insults (pointed at him, anyways - Frank was filled with criticisms of the others. Sometimes Klaus relayed Frank’s words back at them, just to see the reactions, even if the result was often him getting beat up). 

It was after one such night locked up where Mother gathered them all after breakfast instead of sending them off to their normal morning training. Father was suspiciously absent.

“Children, I have wonderful news! Your father has asked me to give you all names!”

Frank often pointed out all the creepy things about the robot they called Mom, and Number Four had to agree. She made all the right facial expressions, but they were distinctly uncomfortable. It definitely looked as though she was going through the motions. He still gave in and referred to her as Mom like all of his siblings because it would look odd if he didn’t, but he didn’t see her as the maternal figure the others did. She was just another tool in Father’s arsenal to keep them subjugated, as Frank said.

“Names? We have names,” Five interjected.

“No, we have num-numbers,” Two responded, looking gleefully at Mom. “We get real names?”

Mother’s face twisted into a perfect smile, as she responded in the affirmative, her tone just a little too chirpy and cheerful. “Yes! I have chosen names for each of you!”

“I don’t want a new name, I like the one I have,” Five crossed his arms over his chest.

The smile faltered as Mom’s algorithms adjusted to this response. It was clearly unexpected to her. He wondered if she experienced genuine disbelief, or if the disbelief came from Father. Father who hadn’t cared to give them real names for the first eight years of their lives, suddenly changed his mind? This definitely wasn’t about giving them something or rewarding them. He wondered what the real cause behind this change was. Not that he didn’t want a real name himself, he would accept it gladly, but he wouldn’t go into it with the blind adoration that Two held for their mother, or which One was obviously feeling for Father’s role in this event.

“Why don’t you hear the name I have chosen for you first, and then decide if you still don’t want it after?” Mom suggested.

“No.”

“Me first,” Three gave her charming smile, as she took the attention off Five.

Mother must have been relieved for the distraction, because suddenly her full attention was focused on his sister. “Number Three, for you I have chosen the name Allison.”

“Allison,” Three said to herself. “I like it! Thanks Mom!”

Number One puffed his chest out, obviously demanding to go next. “Number One, from now on you will be Luther.”

“Thanks Mom.”

Number Two became Diego, Number Six became Ben, and Number Seven became Vanya. That just left him and Five. He wondered briefly if her decision to skip over him meant that he was being punished by Father by not receiving a name (especially since even _Seven_ got a name before him), when she finally turned to him. “Number Four, your new name is Klaus.”

Klaus… Four looked at Frank who was standing by Mom’s shoulder. Frank tilted his head sideways, then gave him a nod. “It’s a good name.”

“Thanks Mom,” the newly named Klaus dutifully recited.

“And Number Five-”

“I told you, I don’t want a new name.”

“The others all enjoyed their names,” Mother tried to persuade him.

Instead of continuing the fight, Five used his powers to leave the room. It seemed that was the signal for everyone to disperse, and Klaus followed their lead. Instead of entering his bedroom (ever mindful of the camera and microphone his father installed), Klaus headed for the roof so he could have his conversation with Frank.

Frank smirked approvingly when he saw Four’s look of expectation.

“So? I know he’s trying to manipulate us by finally awarding us real names, but for what purpose? Why is he actually doing it?” Four - Klaus - demanded.

“Very good. You don’t have any guesses?” Frank asked.

Klaus thought about it for a moment, thinking of how difficult it would be to remember to call himself Klaus now. It would be even more difficult to remember to refer to his siblings by their proper names. They were so use to answering to their numbers, that they often even looked when it wasn’t their name being called, but even something that sounded like their number. “He needs us to get used to our new names. It wouldn’t do for us to answer to numbers or call each other numbers in front of other people… Is he planning on finally sending us on missions? Put us in the public eye?” Klaus asked.

“Not immediately, but you are right, I believe. He has been looking at crime rates more frequently. Looking at publicity rates. I don’t think it will be much longer before he sends you out into the world. And it will reflect badly on him if the world discovers those kids he adopted are being treated the way you are.”

“So… if I started telling people, it could get him in trouble?” Fo- Klaus asked.

“He could fall in the eyes of the public, but the thing about the wealthy is they can literally get away with murder. Hargreeves is rich enough that he would not face real consequences from word getting out, and he’s probably intelligent enough to find a way to spin it. I would not recommend following through with that line of thinking. Telling the world won’t do anything but give the Academy even more attention, which is what Hargreeves is looking to do already.”

Klaus frowned, but nodded. He was still young and had a lot to learn. Luckily Frank was more than willing, and these were lessons he actually _enjoyed_. Sometimes he wished Frank was his father instead of Hargreeves, but he knew better than to tell Frank that. Frank had already told him several times how pointless he felt family was. But nothing could stop him from thinking it. He was so grateful Frank was part of his life.

 

* * *

Because purchasing children from their mothers wasn’t enough for Sir Reginald Hargreeves, the esteemed eccentric billionaire also branded the children like cattle. Klaus had sat stoically through the whole process, glaring at his father. He’d been made to go first, likely because he mouthed off. He wouldn’t give Dad the satisfaction of crying or screaming, though. Frank whispered praise in his ear, telling him to stay strong, to not give in, to remember this for his training later (strong emotions helped him gain better control). When it was finished he wasn’t dismissed, but instead made to watch as his siblings all went through the same process. None of the others were able to handle the situation nearly as gracefully. Allison was sobbing when hers was finished, and he had to step to the side to prevent her from latching on to him. Instead, Mom moved over to hug her after Diego refused her hand, trying (and failing) to hold back his whimpers. Luther, Ben, and Five were trembling in their chairs where they waited, and Klaus just kept his eyes narrowed in Dad’s direction. How did it make him feel, knowing the disappointment was handling this trial better than his chosen ones?

“You did well, Klaus,” Frank stood at his shoulder.

Klaus actively prevented himself from beaming at Frank’s praise. He was getting better at it - hiding what he thought and felt from the others. He was already pretty good at not directly focusing on Frank around his family. That talent was more from all his efforts ignoring the not-Frank ghosts, though. The screaming still got to him some days, but sometimes Frank was able to scare them off. He said he had another idea, but they would have to wait until he was older to try it.

When all of the tattoos were finished, they stood in front of their father, the others all shaking, and it was only then that Father looked at him.

Do you see? Klaus wanted to ask. Do you see how you try to break me but I still stand tall? Do you see how meaningless you are? Do you see how strong I’ve become?

The moment stretched, longer and longer as Allison struggled to get ahold of her sobs and the other boys clenched at their arms. Finally, Dad turned his back on them and said “dismissed,” even as he left the room, surely to record whatever observations he gained from this experiment.

Klaus shook his head as Allison clung to Luther and the others started to huddle together. He walked away from them easily, returning to his room. When there, he glared at the brand on his arm. He knew exactly what this was about. The anger sat deep in his gut, and he felt more than saw Frank move closer. Frank raised a hand to brush through him as his form of momentary comfort, and they both froze when his hand rested against Klaus’ back instead of passing through. Klaus couldn’t stop his head from shooting up, looking at Frank. Frank raised the hand to grip his shoulder, and while it was tight, verging on painful, he had never felt something more comforting in his life.

“Good job, Klaus. Your powers are growing stronger by the day. And this is certainly a power we will continue to work with.”

Two praises in such a short span of time… Klaus smiled at Frank, not even caring whether his father was currently watching the camera feeds, and he let the feeling of his mentor’s care completely overshadow the burning pain in his arm.

 

* * *

With the years of not caring what his father thought of him and knowing who he was as a person, Klaus was very comfortable in his skin and in his interests. Stealing nail polish and makeup from Allison and clothes from both his sisters was a regular occurrence. Allison complained sometimes, but that was likely because he looked better in it. He also borrowed Mom’s heels pretty frequently and got pretty good at walking in them. He liked the confidence it gave him, striding down the hallways in the lifted shoes.

His siblings weren’t as familiar with that particular habit (although they had all seen him in a skirt or a dress by now), although Frank had watched him experiment thinking it was just a phase. He had tried to dissuade Klaus from being so girly at one point, but finally gave in due to the unwavering joy Klaus felt when he dressed how he liked as opposed to how Dad liked him to be dressed. (Klaus sometimes felt he only approved precisely because Dad disapproved, but he didn’t care about the reason so much as the result).

On this particular day, there were no missions, so Klaus was walking around the house in one of his favorite outfits, makeup applied, and heels firmly on his feet. Father was on a business trip with Pogo and his siblings were elsewhere, so Klaus planned on taking advantage of their absence by sneaking out. He had just reached the stairs when everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes again, all he could feel was pain. Everywhere hurt, but especially his face and mouth. He was in his bed, and he struggled to sit up and ask what happened, when he felt like his mouth was stuck.

“Lay back down, sweetheart, you had quite the fall!” Mom’s voice was the first thing he heard.

Frank appeared in his field of vision soon after, and he looked outraged.

Klaus did his best to ask what happened, but his mouth was still refusing to respond.

“Don’t try to talk,” Mom said, pushing him back down on the bed.

“Your siblings pushed you down the stairs,” Frank told him. “They were conspiring for hours, apparently. They were very excited to hear that their plan worked. You won’t be able to talk for 8 weeks. Their official story is that you tripped in your heels.”

“You need to be more careful when borrowing my shoes, dear,” Mom said, stroking his hair and confirming Frank’s report. “We had to wire your jaw shut while it mends. You’ll need to be very careful for the next two months. Another bump could cause irreparable damage. You were very lucky this time!”

He assumed that his siblings were unaware that Klaus had been walking in heels for months now, and knew how to keep from falling, if that was their claim. He might have doubted himself and believed he had been tired enough or unfortunate enough to have slipped on his own if Frank hadn’t been there to tell him what really happened.

The next eight weeks were described by his siblings as bliss, but Klaus would never forget the lengths they would go to remove any hint of his presence in their lives. They didn’t like his snarky comments? Well he would be even louder. They had a problem with him wearing whatever he liked? Just wait until they saw some of his outfits after this. They didn't want him in their little group? Well, fine. He didn’t like them anyways, and he had Frank by his side. Good riddance to all of them.

He wasn’t really able to talk to Frank during this time, but Frank could talk to him, and walked him through all sorts of nasty pranks to get revenge on his siblings. If Klaus had ever had any doubts about the truth in Frank’s opinion of his siblings, this definitely washed them away forever.

 

* * *

Five had now been gone for a week. Despite his best attempts, Klaus was unable to summon his brother’s spirit to him, so Klaus was pretty sure Five was still alive. He had gotten very good at summoning spirits to himself whenever he wanted, it was dismissing them afterwards that gave him trouble.

His father and siblings refused to accept that answer, however. He was gone, hadn’t returned, and there was no sign of him anywhere. Klaus thought it was pretty clear that Five had managed to time travel like he had hoped, and either found something much better than the Academy or just didn’t want to come back. Maybe he did die, but somewhere in the far off future so his spirit wasn’t available in the present. He wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, he just knew that what they were asking of him was impossible.

It figured Five still found a way to make his life miserable even after removing himself from it.

He didn’t enjoy the increase in punishments, the increase in derisive comments from his siblings, the increase of shoves in the hallways.

At this rate, even if Five _did_ show himself, Klaus wasn’t planning on letting anyone else know or talk to him.

 

* * *

Shortly after Five’s disappearance, Frank finally told him how he thought Klaus might be able to better manage the spirits: literal spirits. Dad had enough alcohol lying around the house that it wouldn’t be too difficult getting ahold of a bottle or two. Frank thought it might numb him enough that he either wouldn’t care the ghosts were there, or it would give him the willpower necessary to force them away more easily.

With that thought in mind, Klaus successfully took a bottle of some kind of amber liquid into his room. The first sip was absolutely disgusting, and the only thing that kept him from spitting it out again was Frank being so nearby and watching. He didn’t want to let his mentor down.

He forced himself to ignore the burn, and took a few more sips.

It didn’t hit immediately, but the more he drank, the more he suddenly felt he was floating. The world seemed like it was lighter. It was like something had been sapping away at him, and now it was gone. With this realization came the awareness that the screaming had disappeared.

Klaus turned to report this to Frank, and then froze. No. No! He had only wanted the _insane_ ghosts to leave him alone! He didn’t want Frank to go away with them! Frank’s plan had worked too well. He didn’t want this kind of relief if Frank was gone too!

Klaus shoved the bottle away in disgust, hiding it in the corner of his closet.

He then sat on his bed, arms wrapped around his knees, and waited. He couldn’t enjoy the peace and quiet until he was sure that Frank wasn’t gone forever.

He woke in the morning with a sore neck, a throbbing head, and Frank’s hand gripping his shoulder. He nearly sobbed in relief, the only thing stopping him was Frank’s distaste for those kinds of displays. The weight he didn’t know existed until he had felt its absence was back, but so was Frank, so he could live with that.

Klaus expected that to be the end of the experiments, but Frank encouraged him to continue trying, to see what different drugs did to his powers. The answer was that nearly all of them suppressed his powers, made him nearly normal.

As he got older and got better at dismissing the ghosts he didn’t want around, Klaus came to the determination that the weight he felt was just what it was like to have his powers. Drugs and alcohol could take his powers away, but that wasn’t worth the loss of Frank’s companionship, so he worked that much harder to avoid becoming addicted to that sense of freedom. Finding control on his own would be more difficult, but worth it in the long run.

 

* * *

The first time Klaus died, it was Luther's fault. They were eighteen and had been arguing about responsibility, or something like that. Luther said something entirely inaccurate about his drug use (he wasn't even currently high! Hadn't been for a while!) so Klaus responded with something about Dad's awful parenting, and without warning Luther shoved him with his full strength and then strode from the room. He wasn't there when Klaus’ head cracked against the corner of a table, and so he didn't even notice when the life left his brother’s body.

When Klaus opened his eyes again, he was in a landscape completely devoid of color other than the bright tropical pattern of the crop top he had been wearing.

He didn't fully realize he was dead until the cowboy on the horse showed up and told him as much. Klaus had been an atheist at this point, not believing there could be a higher power with the number of dead lingering around and going insane. (He could now use his powers to restore some sanity to some of the ghosts, but it drained him so much that he didn't entirely think it was worth it. Frank still had him experimenting with it, though. Said it could be useful later). This experience was enough to make him agnostic (he wasn't entirely certain, but he was pretty sure this wasn't the image of God any of those religions on Earth had imagined).

Learning God didn't like him kind of seemed like par for the course. The only person who had ever actually liked him was Frank. God wanted to pick and choose who He liked and Klaus didn't make the cut? Fine. The Devil wouldn't want him either? Fine. Good for him. He got to go back. “Stay off the drugs, Klaus”? Where did God get the right to tell him that? It almost made him want to start imbibing _more_ , a fuck you to both God and his brother, but that would mean seeing less of Frank. Now was as good a time as any to cut the crutch out entirely (except for special occasions - he couldn’t let himself become completely boring!).

When Klaus opened his eyes again, Frank was hovering directly in front of his face, something approaching worry in his expression. None of his siblings were in the room or presumably had even noticed anything had happened.

“What happened just now?” Frank demanded.

“What do you think happened?” Klaus sat up, his head throbbing and pounding. There was blood spattered all over the table and pooling on the floor. Cautious probing of his head revealed a gaping wound. Great. He was back but still had the injury? Fat lot of good that did him.

“It was like you were gone entirely. Your power faded. Your presence elsewhere.”

“Sounds about right. I died. Wound up in heaven, met God. Wasn't what I was expecting, but that's fair, neither was He,” Klaus pulled himself off the floor, taking a moment for the dizziness to fade away.

“You died and came back?” Frank demanded.

“Seems God doesn't want me and neither does the Devil,” Klaus left the room, heading for the kitchen. If God was a cowboy, what would that make the Devil? A Native American? A rebel? One of the temptress harlots?

It took Frank a few moments to catch up to him, but Klaus didn't hold that against him. Seeing him dead then suddenly up and walking again must have been a shock.

He found Mom exactly where he expected she would be and she turned to flash him that robotic smile of hers when she heard him enter, only for it to quickly fade into worry when she saw the blood all over him.

“Oh dear, what have you done to yourself?” She abandoned whatever she had been cooking, and began processing his wound. She began tutting, “this really is quite the injury, dear, how did you get it?”

“Not important, Mom, can you please just stitch it up for me?” He didn't need the machine's faux concern, he just wanted it dealt with.

“Of course, darling!” Mom led him to the medical supplies and made swift work of cleaning and dressing the wound, just as she was programmed to do. Frank was silently watching throughout the whole process, even through Mom expressing confusion over how severe the injury was and his lack of response to it. But Klaus was no stranger to pain, and the injury just solidified in his mind what he needed to do. It was time to leave the Academy. He'd known for years that his siblings and Father didn't care about him, but Luther carelessly killing him and not even noticing was the final straw. He and Frank had been planning it for awhile, anyways. He had more than enough cash saved up to get away from here. The west coast sounded like as good a place as any. It would get him far away from this place, at least.

 

* * *

The second time Klaus died, it was because he had been careless. It was the second time he used the secrets fed to him by vengeful spirits to blackmail someone. The first time was much easier than expected - the guy caved like a wet blanket and couldn’t shove enough money Klaus’ way to keep him silent. It was enough to get him a nice apartment in the city and to get him set up in Los Angeles.

The second target he chose merely because he was annoyed with the sheer number of spirits following him around whining about the guy. That probably should have told him he needed to watch out for him, be on his guard, but he was still riding the high of his first success. Ben had also begun showing himself more frequently and lecturing him about everything he was doing wrong, which just made him want to do worse.

The blackmail part went perfectly and he got his payoff just as intended. What wasn’t intended was his victim hiring someone to take him out. He had left the building and tucked himself into an alleyway to dismiss the leeches now wailing at him for not doing more to the man who ordered their deaths, and in the weakness leftover from using that much of his power he did not possess the strength nor attention to stop the bullet from impacting his forehead.

When he opened his eyes, he was in another entirely gray landscape, although instead of the desert he was expecting, he was in what looked like an elderly woman’s house, knick knacks strewn about. Then God showed Herself and demonstrated yes, he was in an elderly woman’s house - Her house. And She wasn’t happy to see him. The conversation that followed was almost identical to the first, only with God using language more befitting an old woman than a cowboy. She still didn’t want him or like him, and the Devil wouldn’t want him either.

He twitched back to life in the alleyway an indeterminate length of time later, blood pooled around him. He heard sirens in the distance even as Ben started yelling, and Frank rolled his eyes. He picked himself up off the ground, feeling around the edges of the bullet wound in his head.

“Look, we nearly match,” he smiled at Frank.

Frank laughed, even as Ben panicked even more. “How are you so calm about this!?” he demanded. “You were dead!”

Klaus joined Frank in rolling his eyes at Ben. He did his best to ignore the rest of the words coming from his brother, instead focusing on making it back to his apartment and not drawing unwanted attention. To the few people who did see him and scream, he told them it was just costume makeup from a film shooting he had been working on earlier. They seemed to accept that excuse - this was L.A. after all. He would get his own back at the man who dared try to kill him later. He was sure he could find a fitting punishment. (Attack him, and he would return the favor with greater severity, just like Frank had taught him.)

 

* * *

The third time Klaus died was less of a time and more of a progression of events. Apparently he was making some people very nervous, and at least one of those people had gang or mob or some other violent sort of connections. He was grabbed off the street and injected with a sedative before he had the chance to do anything in response. Like most drugs, sedatives numbed his powers, so he wasn’t able to use those to get away.

The goons attempted to torture him for awhile (and he did mean attempted - Klaus had never been more glad of his kinky sex life than during this process), asking about where he got his information from, who he was planning on blackmailing next, how they could use his methods, and more. Then the drugs began to wear off, and the guys either weren’t smart enough to notice, or didn’t think the drugs were the only reason he was still restrained to the chair. Along with Frank returning, many of their other victims began showing up, ranting about how they had been killed.

Klaus was bored of this encounter, and began listing names as they were passed to him instead of waiting for his telekinesis to come back. The goons freaked out. They tried with even greater ferocity to beat answers out of him, until one literally strangled the life out of him.

This time, God looked like a Buddhist monk, or something similar. He had the same conversation in a different voice, and then was returned to his body again. He was getting bored of these encounters.

He woke up in the bed of a truck, presumably being taken to wherever they planned on dumping his corpse. He felt a momentary glitch, like he was in two places at once, and then suddenly opened his eyes in the body of whoever was driving. He easily stopped the truck and shot his way through the surprised men, leaving the scene looking as though they had suddenly turned on one another. Whoever he was riding had surprisingly lived through the shots fired, so Klaus took the gun and turned it on the man’s own head. When the brains hit the window, Klaus found himself back in his own body, slightly winded. He then stretched out the kinks from being left in a chair for so long, and started the hike back to the block where his apartment was.

This time, Ben didn’t freak out nearly as badly, although he was still obviously concerned by the entire encounter. But Ben had long since lost any right to comment on how he lived his life, even if he had begun sticking around for longer and longer lengths of time. That was likely more due to Klaus being the only living person he could actually have a conversation with rather than any actual desire to stay by his side, however.

 

* * *

The longer Klaus continued his operation, the easier it got. He was able to add more and more stipulations to the agreements he initialized, and finally he consulted with a law firm to get even better deals. The lawyers he decided to use were deliciously unscrupulous and didn’t care about the actual legalities of Klaus’ behavior so much as binding whoever he was blackmailing to the agreement they wrote out. They never asked how Klaus obtained the signatures, they just gave him their shark-like grins and made sure anything promised in the contract was fulfilled. This was how he started receiving more than just monetary payoffs, but shares in companies as well. He had never seen himself as the business-owning, multimillionaire type, but Klaus definitely enjoyed the benefits of the lifestyle. He was probably the wealthiest twenty-five year old in the country (at the very least), not that anyone else was aware of that.

Whenever he was recognized, it was because of the book Vanya published almost a year ago, not because he was surprisingly wealthy. It made for some interesting conversations when he continued through his list of targets, and there were more attempts on his life than usual (although these ones all failed) before things leveled out again. He was annoyed by the disruption to his routine, but he didn’t entirely blame Vanya for spilling the family secrets. (He did blame her for portraying him entirely wrong. She didn't know him nearly well enough to make most of the assertions she made about him.) He had considered doing it himself back when he was a kid, after all (thank goodness Frank talked him out of it). Despite the explicitly detailed scenes of child abuse in the book and decades of notes and materials to prove it, there was almost no backlash on their father. He wasn't even investigated by law enforcement. Even a fraction of what was in the book would have sent a normal person to prison for years, but not their billionaire father. That was definitely disappointing, but not unexpected.

Klaus was watching his father’s most recent questionable decision from the comfort of his own couch, television turned to the news. It seems Luther was no longer living up to their father’s expectations or something to that effect. He had seen something about a failed Umbrella Academy mission in the papers awhile back and it seemed that as punishment, loyal Number One was being sent to live on the moon. Nice. Quality parenting, that. He wondered what Dad would do now that the last member of his team was going to be gone. No more missions, that was for certain. Although he _might_ try to wrangle the two other wayward members of the Academy home, but Klaus was sure it wouldn’t work even if he did. Allison was busy being famous and Diego… well. He wasn’t entirely sure what Diego was doing for himself these days, but he was sure he was far happier doing that than ever running missions for Dad ever again. 

It served the old man right, being locked in his big mansion all on his lonesome. Hopefully he’d also kick the bucket soon, now that he had utterly failed in his mission. Klaus waved his ‘Goodbye’ hand at Dad and Luther’s image on the television screen, and then used his powers to turn it off.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! The snapshots here are the only ones I have written out for this universe, but if there is a specific situation/scene you would like to see added/see this Klaus react to, I am definitely open to suggestions! (I know, there's a pretty glaringly obvious one - Ben's death - but I'm still thinking of the best way to handle it).  
> Expect a story following the events of the show sometime in the near future - I already have the first chapter written out, but I want to build a buffer so I'm not struggling with regular updates.  
>   
>   
> Update 4/26: Still working on & writing the next story! It is not abandoned! I intended to already be posting chapters for it, but I have had some _serious_ health complications beyond what I was already facing and have basically spent the past month incapacitated. I have not managed to do any writing this past month because of that. I've got 1.5 out of a planned 10 chapters completed, and while I am not better yet, my health is improving, so I hope to be back to writing very soon, and then posting soon after.


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